


Pretty Lights

by winterwaters



Series: Pretty Lights [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A little angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bartender Clarke, Best Friends, But mostly fluff, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Grief, Hurt/Comfort, Neighbors, Prompt Fic, Songfic, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-27
Updated: 2015-04-27
Packaged: 2018-03-25 23:09:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3828370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterwaters/pseuds/winterwaters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy and Clarke grow up together as next-door neighbors, getting each other through both good times and bad and eventually realizing their best friend has been the one they've been looking for all along.</p>
<p>For <strong>callie167</strong> on Tumblr who prompted a fic set to Mary's Song (Oh my my my) by Taylor Swift.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [callie167](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=callie167).



> Ooohh my god I loved answering this prompt so much, thank you for it!! Hopefully it didn't get too OC. Lyrics here if anyone's interested: http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/taylorswift/maryssongohmymymy.html
> 
> I really hope you enjoy :))

Clarke had crawled into bed an hour ago, and though the room was dark and the house was silent, she was too restless to sleep. She was still giddy from the party earlier in the day, but more than anything she didn’t want her ninth birthday to be over just yet. So she laid awake under the covers until she was sure that her parents were sound asleep, and then finally tiptoed across the floor barefoot.

Her window slid open without too much noise; it was part of the reason she liked this room so much. It made it that much easier to slip out onto the small section of roof where she could sit as long as she wanted, alone with just her thoughts and the gigantic tree that rose next to their house, its branches so thick and long they practically touched the eaves of the roof.

This time when she popped outside, though, she was surprised to find a dark pair of eyes staring back at her from the tree. She stifled her scream at the last second, glaring all the same at the dark-haired boy who lounged on the high branch across from her.

“Who are you?” She hissed.

“Who are _you?”_ ” He asked, instead of answering.

She rolled her eyes. “You really think I’d fall for that?”

Amused, he grinned. “Guess I’ll just have to call you princess, then.”

“Ew.” Clarke wrinkled her nose. “Why?” When he tapped his own head of dark curls, she reached up to do the same, pouting when she realized that silly glittery crown was still twisted into her hair.

“I wanted to be a superhero,” she said glumly, crossing her arms. “But mom couldn’t get the costume in time. She said this was a compromise. It’s my birthday,” she added belatedly.

“Happy birthday, princess.” The boy laughed softly at the look on her face. “Which superhero did you want to be?”

“Thor,” she answered petulantly, glaring when his laughter only increased. “What? Who says Thor has to be a guy? A girl would be just as awesome.”

“You know, you’re right,” he said, still grinning. “I’m sure there’s a universe with a female Thor somewhere out there. We have a female Spider-man after all.”

“That’s what I said.” Reaching up, she carefully unwound her hair from the crown, then chucked it back into her room. “So is that why you’re up in the tree? Playing Spider-man?”

“More like hiding from my little sister.” Now Clarke recognized him. He and his sister had moved in just a few days ago, with their mom, into the house next door. At her stare, he elaborated slowly, “It’s a game…”

“I know what it is,” Clarke snapped. “Won’t she be worried if she can’t find you though?”

“Nah. I’ll go down before that. Scare the crap out of her when she’s not expecting it,” he grinned, eyes already alight with anticipation, and she got the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d done this.

“That’s mean,” she stated.

“That’s fun,” he corrected. She rolled her eyes but stayed out on the ledge, not quite wanting to go inside yet. Craning her neck one more time, she tried to see up through the branches. “What is it?” he asked.

“I want to see the Big Dipper. All those big branches are in my way.” 

“You can see it from here,” he declared. When Clarke narrowed her eyes, he said, “What? You don’t trust me, princess?”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“And who’s fault is that?” He chuckled. “Alright, tell you what. We’ll both say our names on three, okay?” He waited for her hesitant nod, then began to count. “One… two… _three._ ”

“Clarke.”

“Bellamy.” 

As far as names went, that one was pretty nice, she decided. Bellamy smiled and scooted closer, holding out a hand. After an extra moment of study, she stood as close to the edge of the roof as she dared and placed her hand in his. His grip tightened. 

“Ready, Clarke?” At her nod, he yanked her over swiftly just as she leapt, crashing into him. Her tiny shriek got muffled into his shoulder, but Bellamy was laughing even as he helped her upright. “Alright, we can work on your technique, but that was otherwise pretty solid.”

She was barely paying attention, her eyes having latched onto the twinkling stars in the night sky. Bellamy grinned and shuffled over on the branch, pulling her with him, and suddenly the entire dark canopy was revealed to her, like a canvas dotted with pretty lights.

“Thank you, Bellamy,” she breathed.

“No problem, princess.”

~~~~~~~~

It wasn’t long after that that Clarke’s window suddenly became a revolving door. Sometimes Bellamy would edge along the tree branch until she was terrified he’d fall and split his head open on the ground, only to leap over with those long legs and settle next to her on the roof. They’d sit and talk quietly, sometimes about his sister, and sometimes so he could point out more constellations. 

“You know the Big Dipper actually isn’t a constellation,” he said one day. “It’s called an _asterism._ ”

“Asterism.” Clarke tasted the unfamiliar word in her mouth, turning it round and round.

“It means a collection or pattern of stars that isn’t a constellation. The Big Dipper is actually part of Ursa Major, which _is_ a constellation,” he explained solemnly.

She studied him a moment, then decided, “You’re a nerd.” In the next second she added, “That’s a good thing,” and he beamed.

He and his sister soon joined Clarke in school - Octavia was in her grade, Bellamy one year ahead, although they were two years apart in age. Octavia was the best. Where Bellamy had a more quiet, steady presence, Octavia’s was loud and cheery. She was quite the chatterbox, but somehow never made Clarke feel uncomfortable for not always being able to reply in kind. They just enjoyed each other’s company. It was something she never took for granted. Until that point, most of her school days had been spent with her head buried in her sketchbook. Everyone was always polite to her, but she always felt like _the Senator’s daughter_. With Octavia and Bellamy, it was different. 

With them, she finally felt like Clarke.

Now and then she would sit up on the roof and just watch them playing in the yard while she drew the outline of Bellamy’s face from memory or sketched the sight of him amongst the tree branches. They were more than happy to leave her to herself when she requested, but that didn’t stop them from asking her to come play, and soon she was tagging along on whatever adventures they’d made up.

Eventually Bellamy began to bring things with him when he joined her on the roof. Sometimes a new pastry his mom had made - she baked, _a lot_ \- and sometimes extra colored pencils. A few times he brought her large bright pieces of chalk and convinced her to doodle in his driveway until his mom got home from work. Which was how she ended up meeting Aurora Blake one afternoon.

“Like Aurora Borealis?” Clarke asked eagerly, to which both Bellamy and his mother laughed, though not without affection. Clarke thought it was the prettiest name she’d ever heard, and declared as much fairly quickly. Later that night Bellamy brought her a printed picture of the northern lights. 

“Until you get to see them in person,” he stated. She taped it to the wall beside her window. 

On the warm summer nights, Bellamy would climb up in the tree with a mythology book, often reading aloud until she fell asleep on his shoulder. That was how her dad found them on one of the first days - except this time they weren’t in the tree, but on the roof. Seeing Bellamy on the trellis outside his daughter’s window was a bit of a shock, as Bellamy described it later.

“I think he would have punched me if you hadn’t looked so peaceful in your sleep. Thank god you snore.”

When her dad brought it up at dinner the next night, her mother was similarly surprised, though Clarke was quick to point out that she was rarely home anyways because of work. “You know them anyways, Octavia’s over here all the time. So is Bell. He just doesn’t use the front door.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” Her dad asked sharply.

“They’re my _friends!”_ she insisted. “And aren’t you always saying I need to be more social anyways? Besides Aurora’s here like every week for dinner, don’t pretend you don’t know her. You really think _her_ son of all people wouldn’t be nice?”

Despite that, things were a bit odd for a while. Clarke was more careful with Bellamy, waiting until she was sure her parents were asleep or at least in their bedroom far down the hall. 

But on more than one occasion, unbeknownst to her, her dad sat on the porch while she sleepily repeated the names of the constellations to Bellamy, their legs dangling off the tree branch. And on another, he heard her talking about his studio and the way she felt like the paintbrush was just an extension of her arm and how badly she wanted her own space one day. He was also there after a particularly nasty argument they’d had, listening to her recount it to Bellamy, who took it all in silently, like he did everything else.

When she was done, she raked her hands through her hair in frustration, swinging her legs a little vehemently. When Bellamy finally spoke, he was quieter than she’d ever heard.

“You know,” he began, “I never met my father. And frankly I don’t want to. But…” He sighed. “Clarke, your dad’s just looking out for you. That’s more than others can say. And I mean, I dunno, if some guy was climbing up to see Octavia all the time I’d be pretty annoyed too. Don’t look at me like that,” he warned. 

Clarke chewed her lip, letting his words sink in. She knew he was right, but she couldn’t help her main concern all the same. When he nudged her, she sighed and met his eyes. “I just don’t want you to stop being my friend because of all this.”

“Hey, come on. I’m just saying, I see both sides. I didn’t say I’d stop coming around.” Bellamy’s tone lightened. “Do I look like I’d scare that easy, princess?”

With that settled, Bellamy opened his book again, and she let herself relax as his low voice drifted out. Things got better after that. Her father made it a habit to pop outside before bedtime, waving upwards at the two of them in both greeting and reminder, and Bellamy occasionally took it upon himself to use the front door when he remembered her dad was home.

Their teenage years passed rather quickly in this manner, though the window soon had other uses once they entered high school.

~~~~~~~~

When the small tap sounded on the glass pane, Clarke grumbled and clutched her pillow. _“No,”_ she said, even though she knew he couldn’t hear it from outside. The tap sounded again, more insistent, and she groaned.

Swearing under her breath, she unwound herself from the warmth of her heavy comforter and glared at the window as she stomped over. She unlatched and opened it just in time for Bellamy to tumble in, sweater in one hand and shoes in the other. Clarke didn’t bother asking, just shuffled back to her bed, trying to reclaim her warm cocoon. Bellamy yanked the window shut and pulled the sweater on over his t-shirt before sliding in next to her.

“A little warning would have been be nice. Just a quick text is all I ask,” she muttered.

“Shut up, it’s freezing,” Bellamy whispered, shifting on the mattress. “Scoot over.” 

“How would you know, you’re like a damn furnace,” she retorted but let him wiggle under the covers anyways, rearranging their limbs so they could both fit on her bed. “Thought you had a hot date,” she yawned.

“I did. Then her parents came home.”

She snorted. “Ouch. Bet that ruined the mood real fast.”

“Pretty much. She panicked, I panicked…” He sighed, tossing an arm around her. “Plus, you know mom, she’s got ears like a hound. I’d never make it back inside without a full-on lecture.”

“Ugh, you’re such a _guy_ ,” she murmured sleepily.

“Whatever, says the princess dating Quinn. His name even sounds like a girl.”

“It’s Finn.” She didn’t know why she bothered to correct him every time; he always messed it up on purpose just to push her buttons.

“Also a girl’s name,” Bellamy pointed out, choking on his laugh when she practically shoved him off the bed in response.

“You’re lucky you’re so warm,” she scolded, “otherwise I’d have no reason to keep you here.”

Unconcerned, he enfolded her in his arms. “Keep telling yourself that, princess.”

~~~~~~~~

The last year of high school was the worst year of Clarke’s life. 

At first, she would have said it was because her boyfriend cheated, essentially killing her self-esteem and trusting nature all in one blow. Bellamy nearly beat him up after taking one look at her tear-streaked face, but she and Octavia managed to get him to stick around and watch bad scary movies until she fell asleep tucked between them, surrounded by empty chocolate wrappers.

Bellamy did, however, toilet paper his house and key his car, on two separate occasions much later on. She’d have been lying if she said she wasn’t rather satisfied by the news.

But what happened in the following months made all that seem insignificant by comparison. On a Thursday night, her father was on his way home from a gallery showing when his car was hit by a drunk driver. He died on impact.

Clarke essentially lost her mind for the next few weeks. There was no end to her grief, no way to open her eyes and not instantly find something that reminded her of her dad, sending her spiraling downwards once more. Now when she went to school, she wasn’t just the Senator’s daughter, but the girl with a dead father. She finished out the fall semester mostly at home, handing in her assignments via Octavia and only showing up for exams. Her mother took care of the paperwork with the school.

She wasn’t entirely sure how her mother managed anything, honestly. They could barely talk about it at first, unable to stay in the house without either getting into useless arguments or just crying anew when they thought they were out of tears. Bellamy and Octavia became her family in that time, often staying with her in her room or on the small roof ledge. Aurora found endless reasons to come by as well. The entire place smelled like a bakery with all the food she brought over. More than once, Clarke saw her sitting with her mom - not talking, just silently offering comfort, reminding them both they weren’t alone.

She didn’t sleep much anymore. During the winter break, she often stayed up into the night with Bellamy by her side, listening to his voice drift throughout the room in low tones as he read yet another story or simply told her about his day. He was working now, having taken a year off in between high school and college to get a job in order to save up extra money. On the side, he filled out endless scholarship applications in the hopes that it might be enough to put him through college.

One night, they’d finally exhausted Octavia’s stack of shoot-em-up movies and not even Bellamy’s historical documentaries could distract her. Clarke fell back on her bed with a huff, staring at the ceiling. “I refuse to watch a rom com,” she said.

Bellamy snorted. “Color me shocked.” Abruptly, he yanked on her arm. “Come on.” 

“What? Where?”

He shrugged. “Nowhere. Anywhere.” He didn’t bother clarifying, just pulled open her window and tossed her his overly large hoodie before sliding out. Swallowing, she took one look around her room, then followed.

It began a new pattern. Bellamy took her for drives at night in his mom’s old blue pickup truck, always returning before dawn. They never had a destination in mind; just wove through the sleeping town with the windows down despite the cold. Somehow he understood that the shock of chilly air was necessary, the stinging slap of the wind enough to remind her _she_ was still alive.

Sometimes they’d stop at the frozen riverbed and sit in the open back of the truck, sharing a thermos of hot chocolate that Bellamy always put a thousand marshmallows in because they were her favorite, even though he didn’t particlarly like them. He was the only one who didn’t try to comfort her with words; he didn’t tell her it would all be okay or that she’d get over it eventually. He just stayed there, much like his mother did, a pillar to lean on for as long as she needed, his arms a warm cavern to retreat into when it all became too much.

~~~~~~~~

She made it through the rest of her senior year of high school in that way, spending the nights mostly in silence or quiet conversation with Bellamy, with Octavia sticking to her like a shadow during the daytime.

In a very impulsive last-minute decision, she applied to a few local colleges who were accepting people on a rolling basis. Not long after, she sat beside Bellamy gripping his hand tightly as Octavia read the letter he couldn’t bear to open himself. He’d been accepted to his first choice, a school only a half hour from home in one direction and a half hour from Octavia’s college in the other. Clarke chose that moment to tell him she’d handed in her matriculation check to the same school, watching his face light up in surprise and happiness before he proceeded to dance her around the living room until she was breathless with laughter.

Midway through her freshman year, she abruptly switched her focus to studying art, though she kept her biology minor for her own interests. Her mother was shocked at the news when she came home for winter break.

“Wait mom, please.” Clarke held up a hand before the protests could start. “I just… it feels right, to be drawing and painting again,” she explained haltingly. “When I’m in that studio, I feel like dad’s there again, you know? It’s like I can still keep him around… it’s the only way I know how.”

There wasn’t much to be said after that. Per usual, Bellamy climbed through her window that night and when she told him about her decision, he only kissed her forehead and told her he was proud.

Being the complete nerd he was, Bellamy was studying history and literature. It wasn’t long before they both realized they wanted to teach, to share their passions with others. And so they began pursuing not just their degrees, but dreams of entering teaching programs and grad schools. By sophomore year, Clarke ended up with her own apartment, too fed up with the dorms to consider staying any longer. Bellamy continued his tradition of not using the door to escape one-night stands, knowing she would always be awake studying or sketching anyways. At this point she just kept the window unlocked, barely glancing up when he slid inside. 

Another positive to having Bellamy show up in the middle of the night was his penchant for trying new recipes in her kitchen, making her apartment smell amazing every day. She was more than happy to be the taste-tester for the new recipes he’d looked up when he was procrastinating writing his latest research paper.

Until the day his mom was diagnosed with cancer, and then Clarke was the one crawling through his window, sneaking into his bed, curling around his larger form until the morning light filtered in.

~~~~~~~~

Bellamy stopped taking care of himself all too quickly. His face became gaunt, his eyes permanently streaked with red; he moved like a ghost, absent of the strength Clarke had always known him to possess. It terrified her, and it made her cling to him even harder. 

He traveled home almost every weekend, often picking up Octavia first. They spent the days at the hospital with their mother while Clarke did her best not to crowd them, trying to be helpful in other ways. She began looking up her own food recipes, trying to leave extra meals in Bellamy’s fridge in a pointed reminder to eat. Knowing Octavia’s desire for knowledge about the disease, she printed out pages upon pages of information, organizing them into a small binder that she gave to her later. Bellamy was more of the opposite - he didn’t want to know a thing about it. So for him she sketched more than ever, memories of Aurora with her kids, her strong face and kind smile filling the blank pages. 

Clarke’s mother kept her updated on the progress. “She has a lot of chemotherapy left, and it’ll make her very weak at times,” her mom said over the phone. “But Clarke, I promise I’m going to be there no matter what.”

“I know. And do me a favor, if you can, try to get Bell and O to sleep or eat, okay? I’m not sure they’re doing either at the moment.” 

When she went over to Bellamy’s one night, she was so distracted by the bags under his eyes and the way he was coughing into his sleeve that it took her several minutes to realize he was still insisting on going into work. She couldn’t believe it. He looked dead on his feet. 

“Bellamy, hang on,” she grabbed his arm. “You’re in no condition to go in. _Look_ at yourself.”

“I need to work,” was all he said, and briskly shook her off. His dismissal only turned her concern into anger.

“Oh yeah? Who’s going to drive Octavia home this weekend after you’ve worked yourself so hard you can’t see straight? Are you trying to join your mom in the hospital?”

His eyes flashed in warning. “Clarke, don’t start.” 

But she wasn’t backing down. “You need to hear this before you hurt yourself, Bell! I get it, okay? I know you’re in pain, and I know it’s a horrible thing you’re dealing with, but you can’t just tear yourself apart in the process,” she begged.

Bellamy didn’t answer, moving to throw on his coat. Desperate, Clarke stepped in his path as he tried to head for the door. “Hey,” she shoved his chest, “in case you’ve forgotten, I know what it feels like, alright?”

“Except you don’t!” He finally snapped, eyes blazing. “You _think_ you know, you _think_ it’s the same, but it’s _not_ the same Clarke, because you didn’t have to watch your dad be hooked up to monitors for months and wait for him to die!”

Stunned, she stood there in silence as the door slammed behind him. His words rang out long after he was gone.

It was several minutes before she could make herself move. Her first reaction was to leave, and she had her bag over her shoulder and was in the hallway before her feet stopped, refusing to take another step. She couldn’t leave. He’d never left her when she needed someone the most; she wasn’t about to do that him, even if he was too pigheaded to admit to it.

So she slumped down in the hallway, letting her head thud back against the doorframe as she sat there with a renewed determination. She hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but the next thing she knew Bellamy was shaking her awake, eyes wide with concern.

“Hey,” she murmured. Even sleepy, she was relieved to see him. “What time is it?”

“It’s 6a.m, Clarke.” He cradled her face with hands that shook. “You’ve been here the whole night? What happened? Why didn’t you call?”

Her brows drew together in concern, and then she realized - he thought something had happened to make her come over; it didn’t occur to him that she’d never left.

“I… nothing happened, Bell. I just- we fought.” Clarke frowned again at the thought, then poked him for good measure. “And I’m not going anywhere until we figure this out. I’m always on your side, Bellamy. You know that.”

Bellamy sighed, long and harsh, then pulled her to her feet. In the next moment he’d wrapped her in a hug so tight she could barely breathe; not that she cared, since she was squeezing him right back. “I’m so sorry, princess,” he whispered tightly. “I shouldn’t have said that-”

“No.” She drew back and put a hand over his mouth. “You probably shouldn’t have, but you were right anyways. I _don’t_ know what it’s like for you. But that’s why I’m asking you to tell me. I’m right here, Bell. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.” He embraced her again, burying his face into the crook of her neck. “I know.”

~~~~~~~~

Things improved after that. It wasn’t always easy, and they still argued, but it was always with good intentions. Clarke began to accompany him on his visits home when Octavia couldn’t, often regaling Aurora with tales of Bellamy’s freshman year exploits. She had one too many stories about how she’d had to climb on her desk chair to reach the fire alarm in the middle of the night when one of his new recipes took a wrong turn. She mostly did it because it got them to smile, and she missed seeing Bellamy smile so much her heart hurt.

In return he decided it was only fair that he reveal she’d gotten a job bartending, and even though her mom disapproved wholeheartedly, Aurora only laughed and ruffled her hair fondly.

“Make my son work for those free drinks,” she winked, and Clarke giggled and flushed a little because, yeah, she did give him free drinks a little too often. Of course Aurora would know. 

The job had definitely not been what she’d expected, but she kind of loved it all the same. Though at first, her mother’s stern disapproval lingered in her mind, making her waver back and forth on the decision a little too long.

“Forget your mom,” Bellamy finally told her. “It’s _your_ life, Clarke. Your life, your rules. You wanted to study art, so you did. Now you want to bartend? Have at it. Besides, it’s hot,” he added, and at her wide-eyed glance, abruptly switched the topic. But she remembered that for a long time.

She quickly made friends with the other bartender who was often on shift with her, a dark-haired girl with a fantastic potty mouth and an easy smile. Raven was already well-known by the patrons, so she helped introduce Clarke to many of them, often giving her tips about who maybe shouldn’t have that extra shot or which girls tended to get a little handsy after the second mojito. All in all, it was just fun not to think about school for a while. And the extra cash didn’t hurt, seeing as she insisted on paying Bellamy for food and gas on their trips home.

Bellamy visited the bar a lot, often staying far longer into the night than he should have. Clarke wasn’t sure why it surprised her that he knew her schedule almost as well as she did - until one day she saw it was taped to his fridge door, and that made her smile like a fool for reasons she didn’t quite understand yet. 

He said that he was just enjoying the free drinks, but she knew that sometimes it was easier than being at the hospital, or being home alone, where all he did was think about the hospital. He also liked to insist that her walking back alone wasn’t safe.

“Not that you can’t take care of yourself,” he added hastily, knowing her too well.

Still, she let him join her anyways. “I suppose I could do a lot worse than you for company,” she teased back.

It was nice to feel like someone was looking out for her now and then. Bellamy was a big old softie like that, and she liked being one of the few people who knew it. Plus, it gave her a chance to look out for him too.

~~~~~~~~

His mom went into remission when they were in grad school, lamenting life as teacher’s aids and simultaneously trying to develop their thesis papers. The day Bellamy found out, Clarke was interrupted mid-tutoring session in the library by Bellamy sweeping her off her feet and into a hug, spinning her in a circle as he whispered that single glorious word - _remission_ \- into her ear over and over again.

That night he came to the bar while she was on shift, staying until the end as usual. But this time instead of just hanging back while she cleaned up, he turned the radio up loudly and grabbed her hands, twirling her around the empty bar until their laughter was all that echoed back. 

Clarke had figured out by now that she was hopelessly in love with him. Somewhere between term papers and graduation and sleepless nights, he’d stopped being her best friend Bellamy who teased her about her cluttered workspace and knew how much she hated reality TV, and become _Bellamy,_ this boy who gave her butterflies with every flash of that beloved lopsided smile, sent a tingle down her spine every time he threw an arm around her while they were chatting or sitting on the couch.

But with everything else that had been going on, she had been reluctant to give voice to this change, not wanting to be an additional burden on him when there was already so much he was dealing with. And honestly, at first, part of her had wondered - worried - if it might just be a fleeting crush, something that would go away with time.

It did not. If anything, the way her heart thumped and her pulse raced around him only became more persistent, as if to announce that _yes,_ this love was here to stay.

She still didn’t say anything about it for a few months; partly just because she didn’t know how, and partly because she didn’t want to lose her best friend. Nearly every night was spent together, as usual, in either her apartment or his. Though now he wasn’t trying to escape any more dates, and she made him use the front door instead of the window. They usually put Octavia on speaker while Bellamy cooked and Clarke attempted to grade her stack of papers, trading off every so often. Each day brought new stories to share about their students, the latest crazy excuse they’d been given for missing an assignment or getting the wrong answer on an exam. 

One such night, Clarke was stretched out on the couch, her feet in Bellamy’s lap while he tried to read the latest attempts at his students’ research papers. Eventually he gave up with a huff, deciding that trailing his fingers lightly over the sole of her foot was a better use of his time.

“Bellamy!” she shrieked, squirming and trying unsuccessfully to pull away. “Stop that!”

He only grinned and practically fell on top of her, fingers merciless in their quest to make her breathless. Her laughter bounced off the walls as she squirmed in vain, a little too distracted by the weight of him atop her. By the time he finally slowed, she was flushed and panting, her large shirt drooping off one shoulder and rucked up over her belly. Their bodies lay pressed together in all the places she was trying not to think about, but all she could do was stare back into those dark eyes she’d known her whole life, trying to figure out how the light in them suddenly seemed new and yet familiar all at once.

“I should move,” Bellamy murmured. In complete opposition to his words, his hand brushed over her hair.

Neither of them budged. Tentatively, Clarke brought her hands to rest on his sides, feeling his quick intake of breath.

“Or,” she said softly, “you could stay.”

Peeking up through her lashes, her heart lightened at the sight of Bellamy’s smile, blindingly bright. “Or I could stay,” he repeated, in wonder.

Her fingers bunched into the material of his shirt more firmly, giving a tug. He took the hint and leaned down, ever so slowly, until their lips met. It was like a fuse lit the moment her mouth touched his, and then they were suddenly kissing with an intensity that surprised even her. Clarke couldn’t get enough of him, her breathing ragged and uneven as her hands skated everywhere, unable to decide which part of him to explore first. For his part, Bellamy was deliberate in his touch - like everything else he did - learning her body with such single-minded determination that she wondered if he’d been thinking about this as long as she had.

When the question escaped her on a sigh, he barely paused, only growling, “Longer,” before subsequently attaching his mouth to the underside of her jaw - _god, how did he know_ \- and ensuring she stopped thinking altogether.

They left a trail of clothes in their wake as they stumbled to her bedroom, falling atop her sheets skin to skin. Bellamy spent an inordinate amount of time torturing her until the only word she could form was his name in a repeated loop while his fingers teased between her legs. She was absolutely intending to hold out until she got him inside her, but somehow he already seemed to know that.

Leaning close until his lips were inches from hers, their eyes locked and held. “I want to see you, Clarke,” he whispered, and her whole body was wracked by a shiver at the heat in his words. “Come for me,” Bellamy murmured. His lips touched the corner of her mouth, dark eyes unwavering. “Come on, princess.”

Then he smiled, like he couldn’t believe it, like _he_ was the lucky one, and that was what sent her over the edge, keening into his mouth as she came.

He kissed her gently as she recovered, nudging her nose with his in a way that made her giggle into the dark. She felt his mouth curve up again as he nipped along her neck. Her body still ached for him, all of him, but he took his sweet time, either oblivious or far too focused. Either way, he seemed to be intentionally trying her patience with his slow pace.

When his tongue dipped into the crease of her hip, she rocked upwards. “Bellamy,” she gritted out. “Hurry _up.”_

Lazily, he lifted his head. “What’s the rush? We’ve got all night.”

“Are you going to make me wait that long?” She demanded.

Grinning, he began to scoot back up her body, but Clarke decided enough was enough. Shoving at his chest, she pushed him to his back and slid over him, groaning a little when she felt him thick and heavy between her thighs. “Demanding, are w- _Clarke,_ ” he choked out as she sank down without a word.

“You should know better by now,” she retorted, slightly dazed by him filling her up so perfectly.

Bellamy was laughing when he leaned up to kiss her, and it was joy and happiness and everything good. Clarke wrapped her arms around his shoulders and just hugged him for a moment, delirious and drunk with bliss. His hands stroked along her back as he whispered her name into her skin, and she was surrounded by him and only him until there was nothing else.

They didn’t move the rest of the night - or much of the next day, for that matter. It was mindboggling to know someone so well and yet still learn new things about them, and Clarke found herself fascinated by every tidbit of information she could glean from Bellamy - every sigh, every twitch, every groan. She was also sure she’d never been this vocal before, with anyone, but the fact that it was _Bellamy’s_ hands and mouth on her seemed to heighten every sensation. Plus, he only encouraged it, which was a hopeless turn on. 

And so it was a very, very long time before either of them had any thought of untangling from each other. When Clarke finally did gather the energy to move on account of her stomach’s protests, she only made it as far as the living room, coming to a dead stop at the sight of their clothes strewn everywhere.

She was still grinning stupidly when Bellamy’s slow footsteps shuffled down the hall. Seconds later he drew her back against his chest, nudging her hair aside to trail soft kisses along her neck. “Why’d you leave?” He mumbled sleepily, and she smiled at the pout in his words.

“I was hungry.” Twisting in his grip, she had no choice but to kiss his frown, and then his freckles, and then the crinkles by his eyes, further delaying any thought of food as she drowned in him once more.

He did eventually make her pancakes, after doubling over in laughter when her stomach rumbled loudly enough to wake the neighbors. As Clarke slipped on his shirt and watched him stand at the stove in only his sweats, his hair rucked up beyond saving, she decided there was no better sight in the world.

~~~~~~~~

Octavia’s only reaction to their news was, “I’m going to be the first person to be a best man and a maid of honor at the same wedding,” a statement that left Clarke blushing ferociously for days on end while Bellamy only shook his head and clamped a hand over Octavia’s mouth before she could continue.

They still visited their homes on a regular basis. Their mothers, being mothers, picked up on the shift in their relationship within minutes of their first visit - probably because they’d seen them necking in the truck, honestly. 

“We were making up for lost time,” Bellamy shrugged, unapologetic, as Clarke hid her face in his shirt. 

“I always told you we were family." Aurora declared to Abby. "Leave it up to these two to make it official.” 

Clarke marveled at how things changed, and yet didn’t. Their priorities were still the same, both trying to get their Master’s while completing their theses and required teaching. But now nearly every place in the school was filled with stolen moments. 

The shelves in the back on the fourth floor of the library where they’d made out like teenagers; the elevator in the main building that she’d decided could stop an extra minute or two (or five) so that she could send Bellamy off to teach with bright red lipstick marks all over his face; the art studio where they’d proceeded to make a mess of the paints and each other; and of course, their apartments, which soon became one apartment.

Upon graduating, they both got jobs at local schools. Bellamy was teaching World History to high school freshman, and Clarke taught art to the middle schoolers. It was during that time that she caught wind of her mom’s decision to sell the house. When Clarke confronted her about it, she was ready to put up a fight until she saw the sadness enter her mother’s face.

“It feels too big for one person,” her mom said softly, and that was all it took for her anger to drain out. She was still upset about it, but she couldn’t say she didn’t understand, either.

Her mom assured her it would be a while before anything was settled anyways, seeing as renovations were needed before it could be shown to potential buyers. She tried to take comfort in that, though Bellamy was there when she couldn’t bear to think about strangers living in her home. He took her back more often, knowing she just wanted to be there as much as she could.

It was on one of those visits that he turned to her, eyes twinkling with a familiar mischief. “What do you say we climb that tree again, princess? For old time’s sake?”

Clarke giggled and took his offered hand, letting him pull her out into the yard. They did climb up, though not as high as they used to go, sitting in the crook of the lower, thicker branches. She rested against him with a happy sigh.

“I never want to go,” she said softly, and his grip tightened, thumb caressing her shoulder.

“I know. I’m sorry, princess.”

But she shook her head, looking up at him. “No, I didn’t mean that. I meant, I never want _this_ to go away. Us.” She felt a little shy at the awestruck expression on his face. “You’re my home, Bellamy. I know that now.”

Bellamy rested his forehead against hers, his smile more dazzling than any of the stars in the sky. “Marry me,” he breathed. 

Clarke’s heart stopped, then restarted with a fury.

Bellamy cradled her cheek. “Marry me, Clarke,” he said again.

“When?” was all she could ask.

He laughed shakily. “Is that a yes?”

Suddenly she was nodding frantically, laughing with him. “Yes! _Yes,_ of course it’s a yes, you idiot.”

“Good.” He kissed her soundly, and Clarke wouldn’t have been surprised if she floated away, she felt so high in that moment. Of course, Bellamy found a way to somehow top that just seconds after they drew apart. Digging his wallet out from his back pocket, he reached inside. She watched first in curiosity and then in complete shock as he withdrew a ring with a single clear stone in the center, flanked by two smaller blue stones on either side.

Clarke didn’t even bother trying to close her jaw as Bellamy took her hand in his. “I saw it in a store window in December and I just… I don’t know, the color reminded me of your eyes, and before I knew it I’d walked in and bought it.” 

“It’s May,” she said dumbly. It was the only reply she could think of.

He smiled earnestly. “I’ve been carrying it around since March. Before that I hid it the one place I knew you wouldn’t look.”

It only took her a second. “In your history textbook?” At his nod, she laughed brightly and flung her arms around him, nearly sending them both off the branch with the force of her hug. He drew back only once to slide the ring on her finger, sheepishly asking if they could Facetime with Octavia for a second so that she didn’t kill him for not telling her immediately. 

His sister’s shriek could be heard across town. As it was, it caused their mothers to poke their heads out the kitchen window. 

~~~~~~~~

At their moms’ joint insistence, they agreed to a small engagement party at Clarke’s house a week later. Octavia was the first to arrive, along with her new boyfriend, who Bellamy sized up quietly but otherwise didn’t object to after he saw how happy she was. Clarke invited Raven and a couple others they’d met in grad school who were now their fellow teachers. Other than that, it was thankfully a quiet affair. 

It was only at the end of the night, when her mom pulled her aside, that she received yet another surprise that she couldn’t have ever imagined.

“I’m so happy for you,” her mother squeezed her in a tight embrace, then hastily wiped her eyes before revealing a small blue box. 

“Mom,” Clarke protested, “you didn’t have to.”

Abby dismissed her with a wave of the hand. “Nonsense. I’m your mother, I can do whatever I want. Go on,” she urged.

With a smile, Clarke opened the box, then looked up, confused. “Keys?”

“Not just any keys,” her mother said, smiling softly. “The keys to this house. Or, I should say, to _your_ house.”

Clarke opened and closed her mouth in disbelief. “I… but you… what?” She felt Bellamy come up behind her, his hand on the small of her back. But when she glanced up at him, she didn’t see the shock she expected, only a grateful smile that was directed at her mother. It all clicked into place. 

_“You_ did this,” she whispered.

Bellamy shook his head. _“We_ did,” he said proudly, motioning to her mom. 

Lacking any more words, Clarke simply wrapped her mother in as big of a hug as she could manage, trying and failing not to let the tears leak out. “But where will you go?” She finally asked, and her mother chuckled softly.

“Not far. Aurora has graciously offered to let me stay with her for now. If you don’t mind having your mother right next door, of course.”

“Sometimes you’re as stupid as Bell,” Clarke muttered, and they both laughed.

When her mom pulled back, she pressed a kiss to her forehead. “This house _was_ getting too big for just me,” she said, “but I can’t wait for you both to have it.”

Clarke put her arms around Bellamy, tucking her face into his shoulder, and didn’t let go.

They got married just three months later at the end of August, in a small park in the middle of town. It was a simple ceremony, the only guests essentially the same as those who were at their engagement party. Though, being the open space it was, a few others stopped by to watch and offer quiet congratulations as well, recognizing them as the kids who used to chase each other everywhere. 

~~~~~~~~ 

A couple of years later, Clarke dimmed the lights in the living room before stepping onto the porch. She smiled at Bellamy rocking back and forth on the swing with Leo in his arms. The little boy was fast asleep, his mouth hanging slightly open. Their black lab, Milo, lay draped atop the steps, tongue lolling to the side. The sight never failed to tug at her heart. 

“All my favorite guys in one spot,” she murmured, and Bellamy grinned up at her.

She sat next to him carefully, not wanting to disrupt the rocking motion. Milo came over to lick at her bare knees before promptly falling atop her feet. Gently, she ruffled Leo’s thick dark hair, laying her head on Bellamy’s shoulder. “How’s our little lion tonight?” 

“Completely exhausted,” Bellamy chuckled. “I think Milo wore him out pretty good today.”

A few months into her pregnancy, they’d traded a list of potential baby names, and Bellamy being the wonderful nerd that he was, most of his choices derived from the constellations. Judging by the sheer amount of kicking in her stomach, Clarke had decided that perhaps a little lion was more than appropriate.

Smiling to herself now, she said, “The stars look beautiful tonight, don’t they?” He hummed in agreement. “Where’s Cassiopeia again?” She asked. It was his favorite constellation.

He raised his arm to point over his shoulder. “Other direction. Can’t see it from here.”

Clarke waited a whole two minutes, then glanced up slyly. “You know, I draw the line at naming a girl Cassiopeia. But I could live with Cassie.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but when they did he suddenly sat up straight, his eyes widening as they wandered down to her stomach, then back to her face in question. She beamed, nodding. Pure joy overtook his face, his jaw dropping in delight. Slowly, he shifted Leo to his other side before reaching out to throw his arm around her, pulling her as close as possible for a sweet kiss. Clarke sank her fingers into his hair as their mouths slanted together warmly.

“Happy birthday, husband,” she whispered.

He laughed softly against her lips. “How long have you known?”

“Just a couple weeks, for certain. I wanted the tests to confirm it last week before I said anything. And then, the timing was too perfect to ignore,” she grinned.

Bellamy sighed and rested his head atop hers. “You hear that, Cassie? Your mother’s one sneaky princess.”

“Watch it, buddy,” Clarke teased. “Soon you’re going to have two of us to deal with.”

Bellamy smiled and kissed her again. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


End file.
